


Challenge

by ciara_jane



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciara_jane/pseuds/ciara_jane
Summary: The Doctor is never one to back down from a challenge. Even if it means a change in plans.





	Challenge

“Rose!” he called out, wondering where she was; he’d asked her to hurry up and change (trainers were not appropriate for the hike, he insisted on some boots with good traction). She should’ve had some on by now… They’d landed already, should’ve been five minutes there, shoes on, and back… A sudden shout from down the halls caught his ear.

“Doctor, could you give me a hand?” she hollered out from the room of costumes. “I’m… sort of stuck…”

Mid-eyeroll, he frowned. “How…” The Doctor shook his head and hurried down the hallway, making turns until arriving, and understanding the sudden predicament. The landing – unusually bumpy for even the TARDIS – had caused a number of racks to collapse or fall over, trapping Rose in a corner. “You stuck?” he asked in disbelief.

“The rack fell on me while I was trying to tie the boot on, I think I’ve got a bruise on the back of my head.” That’d explain her delay, he mused. “I’m over here,” she yelled again, trying to wave a hand above a massive pile of dresses and capes.

With some trouble the Doctor made his way into the clothes, struggling to get closer to her. “I’m almost there,” he said, pushing aside a woollen cloak as he got closer to the waving hand. “Don’t move, gonna push this rack aside.” 

Rose made some sound of agreement, setting her hand on a furry something-or-other, probably a coat collar, unable to draw it back into the pile. He pushed the rack upright and began to pull articles of clothing off to uncover Rose.

He really wished he hadn’t pulled the last piece of clothing off; an expanse of back with just a hint of her knickers peeping out from her low-slung jeans… He dropped it right back onto her. “Oi, you can get out now.” His ears picked up the slightest sound of amusement.

“A hand, Doctor?” she drawled, waving her hand again. He reached over, taking her exposed hand, and decidedly looked away from her as he helped her up. That hot pink lace was already burned into the Doctor’s retinas. “Oh, now you look away.”

“Hot pink, Rose?”

“I can’t just wear black satin all the time.”

“Bit impractical for hiking a mountain, isn’t it?” _Not that you want any more delays, but thinking about that scrap of fabric has already got you fantasising_ , his brain supplied – or was it the TARDIS? At this point he wasn’t entirely sure. “With all the hiking it’ll probably chafe.”

Rose licked her lips, hands on her cocked hips as she returned, “Oh, like someone’s not going to help me take care of that later.” 

“I’ll send you some lotion.” He turned on his heel, patently keeping his eyes open as every momentary blink caused him to remember. “You coming?”

“Not yet I’m not.” The Doctor groaned, heaving a sigh as he turned around, assuming the delay to be from not having got her boots on. For the first time since before the landing, he took a look at her: jeans, low-slung, a hint of hot pink lace on her left hip just above the waistband; a heather grey, fitted v-neck shirt with some screen-printed logo covered by her slightly dingy pink jumper, left unzipped, the hood strings uneven and falling over the curves of her bust. Slivers of skin showing the bottom curve of her navel, left uncovered by the denim, felt entirely more tempting than they should’ve been. 

_Well, this trip’s not happening, for a while longer at least._

While he’d seen her in much, much less than this, many more times than he could count, it still transfixed him. The Doctor could see one boot already on her left foot, the twin peeking out from a cast-aside dress, but those details barely registered in his mind. “That a challenge?” The swipe of tongue across her candy-pink lips was his answer. “I’m not doing it in here.”

“And why not?” Rose asked, the adamant response, watching him lean against the doorjamb. “We did before.”

“Yes. And while it was fantastic, waking up with an errant high heel to your head because of impatience and nearly rolling onto it and blinding yourself was not, or have you already forgotten?”

She huffed. “Oh, I remember. You were too busy with your hand between my legs to have noticed at first!”

“I thought I’d tossed it aside, but some little minx’s mouth made that impossible.” She stuck out her tongue for emphasis. “C’mere, you.” The Doctor reached a hand out for her, and after pulling her foot out from a misstep (neither relished the sudden thought of needing to tidy this room later, seeing how deep the pile was), his fingers locked around hers and pulled her to him, closing the space. However, instead of the snog Rose seemed to have been expecting, he ducked her head against his chest and looked around her skull. “Where’d it hit you?”

Rose’s left hand lifted and parted some of her loose hair; she’d gotten a bit of a ding but nothing he could really do anything about. “Jus’ sore now,” she said, “’ll be fine.”

The pads of his fingertips brushed the spot, and Rose winced slightly. His lips curled minutely as he bypassed the spot, his short nails parting her hair, running along her scalp. He caught her sucking in a breath, the tips of her teeth fixed on her bottom lip to silence the sound. The Doctor’s nails slid down her neck, around the curve of her neck and to her jaw, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. 

Her eyes fluttered, the ice blue of his eyes a bit hypnotising in intensity. His thumb slid from her chin up to her lips; Rose’s teeth released her lip before curling her tongue around it, drawing the digit into her mouth. It took everything in her to keep his gaze, see the ice blue darken to midnight as her tongue laved his thumb. The Doctor barely held back his own groan at that, trying (with no success) to ignore the tightening constriction of his trousers. “Rose,” he ground out, her body moving forward enough to keep him against the doorjamb. She only smiled, suckling his thumb and flickering the tip of her tongue against the webbing of his hand.

_May try again for this trip tomorrow._

The Doctor drew his hand from her face, his mouth meeting hers for an insistent, hungry kiss, using her distraction to flip their positions and use his strength to keep Rose pinned to the wall, body flush to hers, arousal refusing to be ignored any longer. Despite her head spinning, she met his gaze once more. “Still up for that challenge, Doctor?”

_Indefinitely postponed._


End file.
